


Salvageable

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Ocean's Eleven Trilogy (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Community: tic_tac_woe, Depression, Family, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Mass Suicides & Homicides, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mass Nihilism, Pre-Apocalypse, Pre-Slash, Protectiveness, Romance, Self-Worth Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, almost suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23844973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: Linus’ insecurity takes a turn for the worst in the middle of societal upheaval.
Relationships: Linus Caldwell/Rusty Ryan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33
Collections: Tic Tac Woe (The Apocabingo Community)





	Salvageable

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [tic_tac_woe_bingo](https://immolate-the-silence.dreamwidth.org/62597.html) for the prompt Mass Nihilism, which quickly shifted into Mass Suicidal Ideation. 
> 
> When: oh, this’ll be a nice little drabble, turns into a mini monster you can’t control. I swear, my muse is allergic to drabbles or something. 
> 
> _Warnings:_ Referenced Suicide Attempt, Almost Suicide Attempt, Suicidal Ideation, Depression, Referenced Mass Suicides & Homicides, Self-Worth Issues, Pre-Apocalypse Societal Upheaval

It wasn’t that Linus was holding a drill, a perfectly mundane tool. It wasn’t even that he was boarding up his garage door even though there was no point other than reinforcement, no windows, one skinny door barely one person could fit through at a time, no weak points Rusty could see. The actual windows in the house - a nice, little space in the suburbs which Rusty procured for him, itching to get him out of the city, _safe_ \- were sloppily boarded up at best and _really_ , he should be worrying about those.

No, it’s not that Rusty had ever worried about the potential dangers of the kid using common household tools.

It’s that Linus was just standing there, staring at the table where he had procured said drill, piled with more dangerous and _sharp_ objects than Rusty could remember leaving him with, not moving. Rusty wouldn’t guess how long he’d been standing there since he’d scoured every inch of the house, practically screaming his name at the end there before _finally_ finding him.

And maybe… maybe Linus hadn’t heard him.

Maybe Rusty just couldn’t _almost_ lose someone else the way he had almost lost Danny.

Danny, currently lying sedated in a hospital bed after succeeding in tearing out his stitches twice from refusing to sit still. Danny, having stared dully at the flowers littering every corner of his room before turning that gaze on Rusty, who had done nothing but hide his face in his fourth cup of coffee, physically _there_ but apparently barred an emotional presence. Danny, battered and bruised and unconcerned after having wrapped his car around a telephone pole.

And really… really car accidents _did_ happen all the time, if it weren’t for the prickling feeling constantly creeping up Rusty’s spine.

Rusty had seen him not even an hour before that and yes, Danny had seemed quiet, not particularly interested in any one thing Rusty had said but not fully disconnected either. Rusty had chalked it up to fatigue, which he would have felt too if he hadn’t cut himself off after the second beer. He had chalked it up to: _it’s not gonna happen to Danny, it_ can’t _happen to Danny._

And then the call, the frenzied pacing of the unnervingly bleak, gray hospital hallway after he had been driven from the waiting room, the panic emanating from the numerous TVs boiling his blood and honing a sharp edge on every thought, every doubt, every unoriginal idea to get out of this mess.

He couldn’t just lock himself away: he had hotels to oversee, even if he was on the throes of bankruptcy; he had his new bar - _stupid, fucking idea_ \- to co-run; he had the next job to think about to replenish that nest egg he couldn’t ever seem to keep a hold of. He couldn’t just stay afloat, he _had_ to keep swimming, keep trudging on.

Just because the rest of the world had stopped doing exactly that, from lack of interest, from dwindling energy, from some bullshit idea that existence was no longer worth investing in…

If Linus hadn’t called then he could have just gone on denying it.

Refuting anything was happening at all.

As it was, Linus’ tremulous voice, drenched in panic, whispering breathless pleas, recounting everything that had happened to him over the course of the last three days had pulled at his heart, demanding his last reserves which he suspected he had been saving for him anyway.

 _That damn kid_ , he could remember thinking. _If anything happens to that kid, I’m screwed._

He had gotten Linus out of the city in record time before restrictions on travel had been tightened. There had been so much uncertainty, still was, but the panic in the cities hadn’t transferred over to the rest of the country… yet. Obviously, there were more homicide and suicide cases in the cities and maybe that quadrupled the risk too, but Rusty knew it couldn’t be that simple.

Either way, he wanted Linus out of the city and tucked away somewhere safe where he could keep an eye on him.

Call him selfish, call him possessive, call him practical and unwilling to take _any_ risks when it came to Linus’ mental sanity and _life._

Rusty, however, really shouldn’t have complained about the frequency of Linus’ calls, shouldn’t have rolled his eyes at his pages long texts and should have given answers that were more than a very small handful of words. Maybe if he hadn’t pushed Linus away, claiming he didn’t have all this time, all this energy when he _did,_ he had more than most people at this point…

The texts eventually stopped coming and maybe his phone had stopped working, maybe the networks were being fucked with, maybe…

And then Rusty knew… he _knew_ what was happening.

And now he was here, one relatively short plane ride and exorbitant bribery of the taxi driver to break every speed limit later…

One little flick of the kid’s finger and the drill would be on.

Rusty wasn’t ignorant enough not to realize how easily Linus could go for his head instead of that flimsy piece of wood.

 _Say something…_ fucking _say something…_ “I brought groceries.” It was true, after all. Food always cheered Rusty up and he saw no reason why a few frivolous items wouldn’t do the same for Linus: chips and all the fixings for nachos, plastic trays of Oreo cookies, ice cream by the gallon and in sandwich form, too much wine and not enough reasons _not_ to get absolutely drunk.

He tried not to look too disappointed when Linus didn’t perk up, only turned halfway, once bright eyes scanning over Rusty tiredly until a less confident man would have sworn Linus was left wanting.

Not too long ago, hell, two weeks ago since Rusty had checked in on him last, he would have grinned like a fool and practically thrown himself into Rusty’s arms. He would have pouted as Rusty raided his cabinets because the world was in such a ridiculous frenzy and he hadn’t eaten in _god knew how long,_ and Linus being so young and eager and obsessing over every little detail of his life always made him fucking _hungry._ He would have talked Rusty’s ear off about conspiracy theories, about things that didn’t matter, mindless chatter that could put him at ease just for the warm familiarity of it. It was easy to miss Linus, easier to drop down into the huge space Linus always carved out for him rather than find reasons to stay away.

It was easy to love how naive but brave Linus was, easy to love that spark of hopeful trust.

It was easy but dangerous too. Linus wasn’t a game he wanted to play; he didn’t want to fuck with his heart. He didn’t want to bet on it and lose. He didn’t want to get tired of his hand and fold, couldn’t really live with himself if he hurt Linus.

But Linus just kept pushing, pushing, _pushing_ his way in.

Rusty almost grimaced, swallowed back most of it, bit his lip hard and quickly collected the trickle of blood with his tongue. “Help me unpack?” He offered, craving that stupid domestic scene with Linus more than he had any right to. This wasn’t the time nor the place.

Then again, why had he put Linus here at all if it wasn’t to _keep_ him?

“None of it _means_ anything. I think deep down I always knew I’d never amount to anything. I mean, yeah, my parents always encouraged me, even when they were teasing me, _especially_ when they were teasing me, but I tried to run from it for so long, the fact that I could never be more than just a pickpocket. And I’m not even all that great at it _,_ Rusty.”

Yeah, the kid was _definitely_ delusional. If Danny was here he could straighten him out. If Danny was here then maybe a lot of things would be different.

Rusty scrubbed a hand over his face. “Just… put the drill down. Hell, Linus, I came all this way to see you and you’re not exactly giving me the warmest welcome here,” he cracked a smile but then his entire face started to crack from the strain. He could feel the hairline crack in his heart too, the one that would pull him down to his knees if anything happened to the kid…

Still, he could practically feel the air being breathed back into the claustrophobic garage. He could practically _feel_ Linus crawling _back…_

_I missed you. I missed you texting me every twenty minutes as if I could ever forget that you existed. I missed you and I know you missed me too._

“Rusty?” A thin, scared, entirely too _young_ voice, trembling on the edge of panic, dripping with a dread Rusty couldn’t begin to understand

“Yeah, kid?”

Linus’ expressive eyes were two hugely important pinpoints of light that Rusty could _not_ allow to dim. “Get me out of this garage, Rusty.”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Back upstairs, Rusty unplugged the twin sets of TVs in the living room and bedroom, along with the router. He dragged stacks of books from the bookshelf to the coffee table, the nightstand in the bedroom, the kitchen table, every available inch of space and piled them in small stacks. Linus would go stir-crazy; bite his nails down to bloody, aching fingertips; put on a few pounds - _which his skinny ass needed anyway_ \- and crave the sunlight even more than a new job, but he _would_ stay here refusing to let his brain turn to self-destructive mush from the media and the Internet.

He would do all this because Rusty needed him to.

Because if Linus didn’t make it, sweet, even-tempered, constant worry-wart and _so easy_ to tease Linus, then Rusty would lose more than just his appetite. He’d lose things he didn’t _ever_ want to think about living without.

End of story. Point made.

Rusty pushed the kid onto the couch, dropping a bag of chips into his lap and ruffling his hair. “ _Eat_.”

Linus tossed the bag onto the coffee table. “I’m sorry I did that to you.”

At least _someone_ had said it.

“I just… you weren’t there and I tried to remember when you were, why you weren’t and I eventually _stopped_ remembering, I guess. It just all… fell away. I was scared and I missed you, I started worrying something had happened. Then I tried to remember whether you said you were coming back or not. I waited, just waited and then I started working, thinking it would help. It did but then I started to think. I started to think about how if you weren’t coming back, then I really didn’t need anymore of this.”

“Goddammit, Linus.” Rusty leaned against the wall, hoping for some form of support. At least he was still determined to fix Linus. At least his mind hadn’t started to go _that_ way yet.

“I know, it’s screwed up. I realized it too. I realized that it was really just me. I wasn’t happy. I couldn’t grasp onto anything, couldn’t make anything _stick._ There was nothing left I wanted to do, to live for. There was nothing else _period.”_

Linus wasn’t looking at him anymore and it _hurt_ more than all the things the kid usually expected from him. He had finished pouring that big heart of his out, all that faulty reasoning infecting more and more of the country, had revealed more than Rusty had expected and definitely more than he had wanted. He was retreating into some small, dark corner of his mind again and maybe it was that same place Rusty had found him in. Maybe, instead, it was a space all his own, not yet corrupted but before all this mess. Maybe it had always been at odds with that part of him that had endlessly pushed his buttons, begging for more, insisting for a bigger piece of the pie.

Maybe it was something Rusty had never seen, or something he insistently ignored.

And maybe, _probably,_ if Linus meant all that much to him, he should _try_ to understand.

He sat down on the couch and leaned in close, his hand resting on a knee, fine tremors erupting just below the surface. “Kid, _look_ at me.” To Rusty’s relief, he hadn’t gotten in that deep. All that boundless optimism hadn’t been snuffed out entirely. There was something here that was still salvageable, that Rusty could still manipulate. “You live for _me,_ Linus.” Something in the kid’s eyes flickered, the ice thawing to reveal that youthful hope Rusty didn’t know he’d been longing to see until it was almost too late. “If you can’t find anything else to live for, you live for me, alright? Just for the time being.”

_A quick fix, just until I get Danny back up on his feet again and we can all work this out together._

He wouldn’t turn on the news, wouldn’t scour the Web for half-assed theories and nonsensical solutions. Linus was the only one he needed to concentrate on here. Maybe this was the universe’s way of telling him that this was where his attention should have been all along.

Even though Rusty knew… he _knew_ that the kid wasn’t strong enough for this.

**FIN**


End file.
